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Year 120: Flamerule 6

We didn't have much time, Ayeena said that there were strong forces in conflict, and we could tip there balance. I got very frustrated that everyone was arguing about whether we should go up or down, so I stamped my foot and forged on downwards, I don't know why I picked it. marigold quickly took over and started checking ahead for any nasty surprises.

Oh dear, more slime... only more cohesive. The stuff wasn't really moving with the same intelligence as the last lot, but there was a staircase-filling block both in front of us and behind us... we hadn't noticed either, since they were nearly invisible. I mean, how on earth is this a fair fight? Two giant cubes of almost indestructble acidic slime flanking you in an enclosed space... worse the stuff could yank people inside them, and the stuff they were made of tasted foul. Still, Argent blasted them to pieces, and I only half drowned in my ineffective flailing attempt to slow them down.

Halfway down the stairwell, we uncovered the temple's armoury, which only Ayeena could get into. Vincent promptly decided we should take a ceremonial suit of chainmail that had never been used. In a way I agreed, the suit was strongly magical, and certainly deserved to be used for great deeds. When he started joking about how fun it would be to deface it in the name of Malar, my heart sank. I couldn't let Vincent turn a holy artefact of Amaunator into a mockery of what I stand for. I'm not sure how I convinced him to turn it over to me, perhaps it was the stricken look on my face, perhaps he thought that the fact it hardly covered my legs would distract people in combat.

The suit is beautiful though, so I've drawn a quick picture, but maybe I should explain this. The mail is ceremonial. Golden armour hardly offers any real protection in a fight, it's the enchantment that makes it any use. The suit isn't even one cohesive piece, the neck, forearms, thighs, and skirt are all seperate pieces, and all anchor onto the pauldrons or the belt, so the armour takes an age to put on. The arm pieces, gauntlets and leggings were all too large for me, so I've left them off until I can resize them. The rest was too small for Vincent though, so I guess I look less silly than he would have. Sadly, as the picture shows, the mail offers no protection against being doused in sewage.

Yes, sewage... At the bottom of the staircase we interrupted a half-naked crazed fanatic in the middle of a series of sacrifices to... Jubilex I think Argent called it? him? whatever. Vincent picked off his orcish cultists, Ayeena and Marigold dealt with some more slime, Argent occupied a small flock of imps, and Vincent rededicated the shrine to Amaunator for us. Really! Maybe it was an accident.

I experienced the rededication of the shrine through a juxtaposition of delight and nausia. Holy light blasted through the room, searing our enemies. The main focus of the light was on a giant statue of a slime creature at the end of the room, which promptly exploded into a tidal wave of... something that smelt like ordure. I was about five foot from the statue at that moment. I now look a complete wreck, and it'll take weeks to fix my hair, nevermind the armour.

Maybe I'll let Vincent have the chainmail after all.